


Come fly with me

by weirdlittlecookie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flying, Graduation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1337230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdlittlecookie/pseuds/weirdlittlecookie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Graduation has come and gone and Lydia is finally moving on to new things - greater things. </p><p>She's never felt so horrible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come fly with me

**Author's Note:**

> Was bored in a 9-hour flight.
> 
> I had a small piece on Ally but then last Monday happened and I just couldn't.

"Would you like some refreshments, miss?"

Giving the steward a polite smile Lydia waves her hand once in dismissal, making sure the hollow expression holds long enough for the attendant to pass. She looks out the window, watching the mass of land under her turn to mountains and plains as she shrinks into herself again.

Not even the first class seat her mother had awarded her with makes her feel better.

With everything constantly crashing down around her and her friends something so banal as school moving towards its inevitable end had completely escaped her. Sure she had filled out her application papers but more out of habit than actual interest.

And yet here she was, on her way to Boston, to study in one of the best Mathematics programs in the country. Full-ride.

So why does her skin feel two sizes too small?

She picks at the food in front of her and as delicious as it is, she can't seem to swallow a bite. The magazines she had brought had lost their interest within an hour of departure, the book on string theory still untouched in her bag. She had even tried music but no matter how low she dials the volume it sounds like screaming in her ears. She isn't sure whether it's a usual effect of her banshee abilities or a temporary glitch caused by her mood but it does manage to make her life difficult all the same at the moment.

This used to be all she had wanted - graduate the top of her class, study in Boston, win the Fields medal and promote women in sciences. Simple things.

The last night she had thought things were that simple had been the night of the prom. The night when Stiles had called her bluff and made her admit what she really wanted, who she she really is. And at that same night it had slipped away from her as a whole other world got pulled into view.

She remembers the damp grass under her feet, the bright lights around the lacrosse field. The huge, dark nightmare that had appeared from the night and taken her with him. Absently Lydia moves her hands to the side Peter had sunken his claws in. There's nothing for the eye too see and still she can feel the marks like they had roots that dug all the way to her subconsciousness.

That night had changed everything. Her latent abilities awoken, echoing and resonating in spaces so much larger than her life she had practically forgotten all about the bright future she had been mapping out since her sixth birthday. Or rather, had until her mother had slid the application papers towards her in the breakfast table, casually, the rim of the coffee cup on her lips and a pointed look in her eyes.

So she had gone through the motions, and just like that it was all going according to plan again. Everything was perfect. They had moved forward, and Lydia for one was completely detaching from the supernatural of Beacon Hills. But that was all appearances. Her core had already been altered. Elements rearranged. Priorities changed.

The pull between the two realities, the two faces she possessed, caused disturbance, a turbulence that she feared might tip her over.

And there was only one person who seemed to know how to keep her steady. The one person who had shaken her loose in the first place.

Peter.

She isn't oblivious to the fact she must be checking multiple boxes from a textbook case of Stockholm syndrome but what she had seen had also taught one other thing - everybody is capable of the purest good and the most unspeakable bad. Peter had found his breaking point and it had warped him into one single emotion, revenge. But even after that he had been able to reinvent himself and rise from the ashes. Still dangerous but when had he ever been anything else? And when had she ever been drawn to anything less?

Lydia knows why she feels like scratching herself from the inside. Why her breath seems to catch in her throat, her lungs burning from too little oxygen and aching from too large gulps of it at the same time. Every second takes her farther away, to the other side of the country where she's supposed to start living her life. Without Peter, without her anchor. Her stomach drops.

In shock she turns her head to the window, fervently ramming through her bag for a tissue. The stinging in her eyes turns dangerously burning as her sight blurs from the tears waiting to fall, making her search for any piece of paper even more desperate. It's too late to walk subtly to the bathroom and she cannot, will not, break down here. Lydia Martin does not break down in public places.

A tissue appears in the corner of her line of sight and she grabs it without a second thought. After a quick swipe over her eyes she straightens her back, plastering a smile on her lips as she turns around to face her Samaritan. "Thank you, I must have been allergic to something in the..." She freezes mid-sentence,  her perfectly painted lips left slightly ajar. Moments pass before she can force herself to utter one single word, "Peter?"

Peter smiles, his elbows resting on both sides of him. He looks relaxed in his white tee and dark jeans, head cocked to the side and body slouched comfortably on the wide seat. In front of him are two drinks and he moves to offer the other to Lydia. Without a word she takes it, keeping her eyes glued to him.

"Are you really here?" She whispers, remembering all too well the last time he kept appearing out of thin air,which elicits a short laugh from Peter. He seems genuinely happy, smile reaching all the way to his eyes. Lydia is more worried than ever. She decides to take a sip of the drink just in case he does turn out to be a hallucination and the alcohol disappears with him. She ends up downing the whole thing, Peter observing her in quiet amusement. Lydia sets the glass back down, looking at him expectantly, "Well?"

Peter raises an eyebrow and holds his hand up to a steward. "Excuse me, Miss, could you please bring another gin and tonic and some still water for the lovely lady."

When the steward leaves he turns back to her, "Satisfied?"

Not waiting for a new drink she merely takes his, composure now fully regained, and smiles before tipping the glass. "Not even close."


End file.
